Before and After
by Imagine69
Summary: What may have happened between episodes in series 6. A prequel for In-Between as the plot leads on nicely.
1. Before the Fall of Skul

Stella was browsing through profiles of potential young agents when he knocked on the door. Her heart leapt to her mouth.

"Enter!"

The man pushed open the door and slowly walked into the office. In ten years, he hadn't changed a bit. Stella found that this fact thoroughly annoyed her. She didn't like to be reminded of the past.

"Stella."

She started a little at the unique way he said her name. She hadn't realised, but she'd missed hearing it, the way he rolled the 'l' off his tongue with a certain grace that no one else could manage.

"Frank," Stella greeted him in reply.

"I heard you got the job," Frank said approvingly as he took his seat opposite Stella. "Congratulations!"

Indeed, Frank had been hit with a mixture of pleasure and anxiety when he heard that Horatio Stark would be replaced by Stella Knight. It was definitely a relief to no longer have to tolerate Stark's command, but Frank had no idea what to expect of Stella.

"Thank you," Stella said with a stiff smile. "Now, if you don't mind, we have potential candidates to discuss. I trust you did the background reading."

"I did," Frank confirmed, matching Stella's businesslike manner. "I have a few in mind. Tom Tupper, for one, reminds me of Rose, except less..." He trailed off, searching for a suitable word.

"Disciplined?" Stella offered.

"Yes, disciplined," Frank seized the proffered word gratefully. He had been thinking along the lines of "mischievous", which, although accurate, would not be the most positive description.

"Anyone else?" Stella prompted.

"Aneisha Jones. She seems to have an uncanny affinity to people just as Tom Tupper has an affinity to technology. I think they'd work well together. And Daniel Morgan."

Stella remained silent for a moment, considering Frank's choice of agents. To be completely honest, Stella had been thinking of those three candidates as well. But she didn't like to admit that her thoughts still seemed to synchronise with Frank's, just as they had ten years ago. Working with Frank would open some old wounds, she knew, and she wasn't feeling particularly confident about it.

"I will consider your choices," Stella said finally, standing up. "I'll let you know by noon so we can organise some way to introduce these candidates to MI9."

Recognising his dismissal, Frank stood up and shook hands with Stella, marvelling at the softness of her skin. Stella's heart beat more rapidly at the contact, suddenly remembering all those times that she had held Frank's hand, feeling safe in his presence.

They let go all too quickly, and Frank took his leave. Stella sat down slowly. Working with Frank London would be...interesting.


	2. After the Fall of SKUL

All the school corridors looked the same. Melissa had said the art classroom was first right turn, second door on the left, just past the students' interpretation of Van Gogh's _Starry Starry Night_. She'd certainly taken the first right, and she was standing outside the second door on the left. But the room was empty, there were no pictures that even vaguely resembled Van Gogh's masterpiece, and the door was labelled "Preparatory Room".

Despite all her navigation training at SKUL and then again at MI9, Zoe had never been able to find her way around the school, except to go to the caretaker's storeroom.

"Zoe?"

Zoe turned around to see Dan walking briskly towards her. She smiled in relief and started talking rapidly. "I know you said to meet at the arts classroom but I couldn't find it and Melissa said the take the first right, which I did, but then I couldn't find the Van Gogh pictures and second door on the left is a science lab, and - "

"Zoe," Dan cut off her extremely long sentence with a look. "Never take directions from Melissa. Come on."

Dan grabbed Zoe's wrist and led her down the corridor where he'd come from, stopping outside a door labelled "Creative Arts".

He pointed at a set of blue and yellow splashes outside the classroom. 'Those are the _Starry Starry Night _interpretations."

"They don't look like it," Zoe observed with a frown, earning her a laugh from Dan, who nodded vigorously.

Opening the door, Dan gestured for Zoe to go first, trying to act gentlemanly. Zoe rewarded him with a shy smile, and entered ahead of Dan to find Tom and Aneisha already painting away at the separate easels. The four of them exchanged brief greetings, before Dan and Zoe took up their own easels and palettes.

Ten minutes later, Zoe hadn't yet decided what to paint. She glanced around at the others' work. Tom appeared to be painting Blade Quest characters, and Aneisha was painting Flopsy. Zoe couldn't exactly make out what Dan was working on, but it seemed to be a young girl with wearing a blue ribbon in her red hair.

Zoe sighed, picking up her brush again. She definitely would not be taking Visual Arts next year. Maybe she could convince Dan to take Textiles with her.


	3. Before the Trojan KORPS

This certainly was a great start to the job. Stella had only just settled into her new position as Chief Agent, and now there was a massive PR disaster on her hands. That Jenny Lane reporter was really starting to annoy her.

Returning from another press conference, Stella tiredly retreated into her office and collapsed in her chair. Folding her arms on the desk in front of her, she rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes and wishing that Jenny Lane would be abducted by aliens within the hour.

When she opened her eyes two minutes later, she realised that her bag had spilled open where she'd dropped it on one of the spare chairs, the contents beginning to fall out. Stella sighed as she stood up to put everything back inside.

She paused, her hand picking up an old photograph that had dropped out. It featured herself with Frank, young and carefree as they smiled at the camera. They'd both loved the photo so much that they'd printed two copies. Frank had stuck one on his computer down in his old office. Stella carried around the other copy wherever she went. Perhaps it was force of habit, or perhaps lingering affection, that led her to have kept the photo with her all these years.

Returning to her seat with the photo in hand, she stared at it, as if her intense gaze would take her back in time to the days of sunshine and laughter when she and Frank were together. It haunted her, in a way, to think that KORPS might still exist. She denied it, of course, for so much had been lost the last time they'd fought KORPS. Stella had lost many friends to the missile, and in a way, she'd lost Frank too. She hated to think that such loss was in vain, that KORPS would rise again.

A knock on the door shook Stella from her reverie.

_No rest for those who fight the wicked_, Stella thought as she called, "Come in!"

On of the fresh graduates from the MI9 Training Centre came in. "Ma'am, there are people in the Bunker!"

"Thank you, Agent," Stella said curtly, immediately standing up. "I'll go down immediately."

As the young agent disappeared into the corridor, Stella thrust the photo back into her bag. It was probably Frank, she knew, the only one apart from her who still had access to the Bunker. As she headed out the door, she vaguely wondered whether the other copy of the photo was still in the Bunker. And, if it was, whether it still meant anything to Frank.

For some unfathomable reason, Stella hoped that it would.

* * *

It had made her angry, which annoyed her. Stella did not like to be angry. Anger was an out-of-control emotion, and control was of utmost importance in military intelligence.

What annoyed her more was that she did not know why it made her angry. Why shouldn't Frank's agents tease him a little? Why did it bother her to see the precious photo being used as "evidence" of a mysterious past? More importantly, why did Frank try to hide it?

Anger soon became guilt as Stella left the lift and returned to the office. The Jenny Lane disaster wasn't Frank's fault, and she'd taken out all her anger and frustration on him.

And then, all of a sudden, the reason for her anger became clear. KORPS was rising, and no matter how much she tried to deny it, it was happening. Down in the bunker, it had opened old wounds to see pictures of old enemies and to be reminded of why she and Frank had broken up. The evidence was all there. KORPS was coming back for another fight.

For the first time in many years, Stella felt fear. What would they have to sacrifice this time?


	4. After the Face of Revenge

Dan, Aneisha, Stella and Frank were escorted into a spacious MI9 van to be taken back to St Heart's.

In the van with three rows of seats, the driver and another MI9 agents sat at the front, which was divided from the back by small screen. In the second row, Dan and Aneisha were jubilant, making jokes about Byron's music. Eventually, their creativity exhausted, Aneisha ended up patiently listening to Dan as he talked about Zoe's excellent performance on the mission.

In the spacious back row, Frank sat next to Stella, rather concerned that she was looking rather downcast. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, her eyes fixated on the back of Dan's seat.

"Stella, are you okay?," Frank asked gently.

Stella remained silent, but switched her gaze down to her hands, as if examining them. Frank followed her gaze, and found angry red marks across her wrists. Rope burns were painful, Frank knew, and he was shocked that Stella hadn't said anything. But then he realised that this was Stella, and Stella never paid any attention to herself.

Frank's hands darted out to grasp Stella's forearms, bringing her wrists closer for inspection. To his surprise, he met no resistance and Stella did not try to pull her arms out of his grasp.

"Dan, pass me the first aid kit," Frank said. Aneisha and Dan turned around, concerned.

"What's wrong?" Aneisha asked as Dan fumbled for the first aid kit.

"Are you hurt?" Dan added, passing Frank the first aid kit.

"Rope burns," Frank answered, tilting his head towards Stella, who was still looking down at her hands. "Nothing I can't fix though," he added reassuringly, as much for Stella's benefit as for Aneisha's.

The teenagers nodded, and their heads disappeared from between their seats.

"Now, this will sting," Frank warned, carefully dabbing antibacterial wipes over the harsh red lines on Stella's wrists. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Stella when the alcohol-drenched cotton came in contact with her skin, and immediately felt guilty for causing her more pain.

"Sorry about that," Frank said, and received a weak smile in return.

There was silence as Frank continued to work on Stella's wrists, broken only by the sound of traffic outside the van. Once he had finished with the antibacterial wipes, Frank found some gauze bandage to tie around the wounds.

"Change that once a day," he instructed, even though Stella knew the protocol for treating every wound in the textbook. He looked up, making sure that Stella understood, and only moved to pack up the first aid kit when she nodded.

"Thank you," Stella said quietly, making Frank all the more concerned. Not only had she let him take care of her wounds, she had thanked him humbly, and had barely spoken during the entire trip.

They were approaching MI9 HQ to drop Stella off, and Frank suddenly realised what was bothering her. Once the Minister for Security had sufficiently recovered from his face-changing adventure, he and the Prime Minister would be involved in a debrief with Stella, which, Frank knew, would involve nothing more than blaming her for everything that wasn't her fault. And worst of all, knowing Stella, she would believe them and sink into another spiral of self-doubt and unjustified guilt.

Frank found that this fact thoroughly annoyed him.

"Stella, everything worked out in the end," Frank said, "and none of this was your fault. Just believe me for once."

But the van pulled up at MI9 HQ and Stella retrieved her usual brisk manner.

"Agents, excellent work today. Frank will debrief you when you return to base." Stella waved briefly as the van took Frank, Dan and Aneisha back to the school, then straightened her jacket and strode into the dreaded debrief with the Prime Minister and Minister for Security.

* * *

The debrief had taken well over two hours, in which Stella simply answered "yes, sir" or "no, sir" to every question that attacked her. By the end, she was nearly in tears as she walked back to her office, blinking fast and putting on false smiles whenever she met someone in the corridor.

Worst of all, as far as Stella was concerned, her superiors were completely right. She had allowed the MI9 research facility to be infiltrated right under her nose, and millions of people had been transmorphed. If not for Zoe, Byron and an unlikely pop star, the country would be in ruins.

By the time she reached her office, Stella's vision was all a blur. She found the slot for her card purely out of muscle memory, for she couldn't make it out through the tears. Pushing open the door, Stella eagerly escaped into her office, desperate for a moment alone.

Stella, of course, was expecting a mass of complaints and paperwork in her in-tray, courtesy of the recent Peabody disaster. She wasn't wrong, and there were many letters and forms in a stack, but she definitely wasn't expecting to receive a large envelope decorated with a moon and stars.

Furthermore, whilst most papers were addressed to "Chief Agent Knight", this astronomy-style envelope was addressed to "Stella". Her name was written in beautifully lettered cursive, which looked suspiciously like Aneisha's handiwork.

Stella's curiosity quickly overcame her upset and she opened with envelope, finding a card and a framed photograph inside. She examined the photograph first, and realised that this was the test picture of Tom's new image capture program. Dan, Zoe, Aneisha, Tom, Frank and herself were standing around the round table at the M.I. High base, smiling at Tom's spypod camera.

Stella carefully stood the photograph on her desk, moving pens and papers aside to give it a central position. She wanted to be able to see this photo every day.

Opening the card, Stella recognised Zoe's handwriting.

_Dear Stella,_

_Thanks for being a great Chief Agent to work under. More than that, thanks for being our friend. We know that you're only super serious and strict because you don't want anyone to get hurt._

_Please come and see us at St Heart's soon. You have to some and see Flopsy's latest trick. Frank worked it out when he was distracted by something while feeding carrots to Flopsy, and it's completely hilarious._

_Love you heaps,_

_Dan, Zoe, Aneisha and Tom_

Stella smiled, glancing back down at the photograph on her desk. They really were an extraordinary group of kids. She turned the card over, and realised that Frank had scribbled a brief message at the back.

_Dear Stella,_

_Listen to me for once this time, okay? Today was not your fault. The PM and Minister for Security are only doing their jobs, we don't take it to heart what they said. They need someone to blame, and you're the highest ranked. That's all there is to it._

_Do not blame yourself, because if you do, I'll find out, and get Flopsy to mistake your fingers for carrots._

_Anyway, I figured the debrief took forever and you haven't had dinner yet, so I'm going to turn up at your office in a bit and you are going to eat what I give you. Yes, I know you outrank me._

_Don't forget to change your bandages._

_Frank_

Stella's smile grew wider. In ten years, Frank hadn't changed a bit. She was slightly annoyed to realise that this meant she still loved him just as much as before. But Frank would have moved on now, and surely he treated everyone this way, with utmost care to every little detail.

Still, Frank was coming over to her office, and that gave her something to look forward to.

Which was exactly what she needed to get through the many complaints in her in-tray.


	5. After the Face of Revenge (II)

Frank knocked on the door and waited. There was no response, so he knocked again, then, realising that it was unlocked, pushed the door open slowly.

Peering into the room, he found Stella fast asleep at her desk, her head resting on her arms. The papers on which she rested seemed strangely damp, and Frank quickly realised that her tears had soaked the letters of complaint as she was reading them.

Putting down the boxes of Chinese takeaway, Frank gently shook Stella by the shoulder. She stirred, and suddenly sat up, completely alert. All these years away from the field, and still her reflexes were as good as ever.

Frank took a step back, not wanting to be accidentally kicked or punched. Agents were trained to be extremely self-protective when woken unexpectedly. Frank watched as Stella registered that it was him, and relaxed noticeably. He also noticed, to his extreme concern, that her eyes were blood-red and her cheeks stained with tear streaks.

"I got your gift," Stella said softly, indicating the framed photo and card that stood in prime position on the desk. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Frank answered, pulling up a seat beside her and handing her a box of stir-fry vermicelli.

Stella took the food with shaking hands. It was her favourite, what she always ordered on the rare occasion that she ate out. Frank wasn't the most observant of senior agents, and yet he had remembered this particular detail from ten years ago.

Stella never realised that Frank was only so ridiculously observant when it came to her.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked as he tucked into his own meal.

Stella nodded vaguely in reply, apparently distracted by twirling the strands of vermicelli around her fork. But Frank would not be fooled, and knew that she was trying to avoid the question. As usual.

"You're not okay." It was statement, and more than that, a true statement. Frank knew it, and Stella had to admit it.

"I'll be fine," she said unconvincingly.

Frank sighed, but couldn't think of a suitable reply. They ate in silence, accompanied only by the sound of plastic forks scraping against plastic boxes.

When they had finished, Frank produced a thermal flask containing tea, and poured some for them both. Stella drank hers gratefully, relishing the warm and soothing drink.

"Maybe you should take a break," Frank suggested timidly, gesturing at the stack of paperwork that Stella had to deal with. "You're obviously exhausted."

Stella shook her head. "These letters need replies. I have to reassure the country that they're safe. It's going to be long night."

"Then I'll stay," Frank declared, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument.

"Frank, don't be ridiculous." Stella collected the empty teacups and put them aside to be washed later.

"Well, I can't leave you here alone!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'd go the whole night without getting any sleep, worrying about your sanity. At least being here, I can help," Frank said, as if explaining basic arithmetic to a very young child.

"And how are you going to help?" Stella asked.

"I can write the letters and you can sign them," Frank replied. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No, Frank," Stella said firmly. "I'll write the letters. But if you must, you can stay and keep me awake."

Needing no further encouragement, Frank made himself comfortable in Stella's office and they worked through the letters of complaint and incident reports together.

Though she was unwilling to admit it, Stella was indescribably grateful for Frank's company. Reading endless complaints on her own had brought her to tears, a fact that Frank knew but never mentioned. With Frank's encouragement and constant reminders that it wasn't her fault, Stella found the task far less daunting and even enjoyable, in a way, to bask in Frank's presence.

They worked into the early hours of the next morning, by which time both of them were delirious from lack of sleep. When Dan, Zoe, Aneisha and Tom came by the next morning, worried by Frank's lack of responsiveness, the teenagers found their leaders asleep in their adjacent chairs, Frank's hand still wrapped around Stella's.

Zoe and Aneisha found blankets to lay over them, while Dan and Tom carefully shifted the chairs so that Frank could continue holding Stella's hand without leaning over dangerously in his chair.

Throughout all this, Frank and Stella remained asleep, completely and utterly exhausted.


	6. Before Mission Incredible

The team's undercover personas were relatively simple for this mission. Dan, Zoe, Aneisha and Tom were posing as school students, which wasn't at all difficult since they were, in fact, school students. They were to fly to Boldovia with the rest of the school.

MI9 HQ also set up cover stories for Frank and Stella. Much to Frank' amusement and Stella's annoyance, they were flying to and from Boldovia as wealthy newlyweds on a honeymoon tour of Europe. As such, they had been seated together in business class on flight BD742 with Boldovian Airlines.

Having known that passengers aboard Boldovian Airlines flights were always closely watched by flight attendant, Stella had reluctantly ordered that they both think back ten years and portray their roles as realistically as possible.

And that was how Frank came to be sitting comfortably on the evening flight to Boldovia, leaning against the window with one arm around Stella's shoulders. He could smell her perfume, instantly recognising it as her favourite. She never wore perfume anymore, and Frank guessed that she was wearing it now only for the purposes of the mission, hoping it would help them both travel back in time to before the disastrous raid on KORPS.

As a flight attendant walked past to do the seatbelt checks, Stella sighed contentedly and let her head rest against Frank's chest. As she moved, Frank noticed a glint of silver from the necklace she had tucked beneath her collar. As with the perfume, Frank recognised it instantly. He had spent hours speculating over potential birthday gifts, and eventually settled on a simply charm necklace featuring a silver shooting star.

They hadn't even taken off, and already Frank was taking a trip down the memory lane.

Stella hated flying, a fact that was privy to very few people. Frank was one of those people. As such, he vowed to make sure that he made her flight as comfortable as possible.

Take-off and landing were dreaded moments for Stella, who spent the ascension trying to fall asleep. She leaned against Frank and closed her eyes, ignoring the ever rising feeling of travel sickness in her stomach and hating the fact that she had no control over the plane's movements.

Just as the plane had reached level flight, the pilot somehow managed to find an area of turbulence to fly through. Unable to control the reverse peristalsis of her oesophagus any longer, Stella sat up suddenly, gratefully taking hold of the air sickness bag that Frank offered to her.

Stella hadn't tied her hair up as usual, but left it falling in waves across her back as part of her new persona. Frank held her hair back as she threw up, gently running his free hand up and down her back to offer a little comfort.

A flight attendant came by to collect the air sickness bag, and Stella sat back in her seat, rubbing her eyes, which had begun to water. Frank's presence embarrassed her somewhat, and she was grateful to be posing as a naive newlywed rather than a senior MI9 agent holding a huge amount of responsibility for Britain's security. Nevertheless, she was exceptionally glad to have Frank by her side for comfort.

Frank hadn't said anything at all during the flight, but he didn't need to. When Stella's stomach had calmed down, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders again and held her close to him. Using Frank's chest as a pillow, warm in his embrace, Stella managed to escape into sleep for the rest of the flight.

Not one of the highly trained Boldovian flight attendants ever suspected that Frank and Stella were any more than a loving couple on their honeymoon.


	7. After Mission Incredible

There was a thin line between giving Frank some space and letting him wallow in misery. Stella had stopped Aneisha going after him to give him space, but an hour later, decided that Frank had had enough time to let off steam.

MI9 had arranged for Frank and Stella to share a hotel room, maintaining their guise of being newlyweds on their honeymoon. Stella had to admit that it was a cleverly devised cover for them, because it meant that they were unlikely to be disturbed during late-night discussions involving top secret information.

Of course, the other great advantage was that Frank couldn't hide from her, because she had a key to their room as well.

Stella opened the door slowly and found him sitting on the carpet with Janus' guitar over his lap, a pair of scissors in one hand, and a stick of Boldovian cheese in the other. Confused, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. Frank didn't look up, but continued to cut up the guitar strings into tiny pieces, occasionally taking a bite of the cheese.

Without a word, Stella approached him and sat down beside him, gently pulling the scissors from his fingers and sliding the guitar off his lap. Frank didn't protest, and though his shoulders were shaking slightly, his eyes were dry and full of fire.

"Go on then." Frank's tone seemed almost accusing. "Say it. You were right about Janus all along. You always are."

"I'm sorry," Stella said quietly, kneeling behind him and wrapping her arms around him.

"It's not your fault," Frank responded instinctively. He knew that line quite well know. Stella was just as familiar with it, and didn't like it a bit.

"It's not your fault either," Stella removed her arms and moved so that she was facing him. "One of the ways we're different from KORPS is that we trust each other. We have friends. Trust is not a crime."

Stella's gaze was intense, but Frank did not drop his eyes. He had forgotten what it was like for Stella to be "nice", and found that he quite liked it.

"I know how it feels to be betrayed," Stella continued, her voice sad and soft around the edges. "It hurts."

Frank suddenly remembers that Stella, of all people, knew exactly how he felt. Over ten years ago, the first time they fought KORPS, Stella had been shocked to discover that one of her closest friends who had gone through training and multiple missions with her, was a double agent. She had taken a whole week off work, which was completely unprecedented for Stella, and had spent many an evening crying into Frank's shoulder.

"And it takes a long time to learn to trust again. You end up doubting every one of your colleagues and confuse yourself trying to work out where their loyalties lie." Frank tuned in again to what Stella was saying.

Stella paused as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "You know, Frank, of all the people I've worked with, I've always trusted you. I think you're the only one I never doubted at some point of another. So thank you, I guess."

Impulsively, Frank leaned forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Stella, then let go quickly, afraid that she would lash out at him. Luckily for him, she only smiled.

"Do you feel any better?" she asked gently.

Frank nodded and offered a reassuring smile. He stood up and offered a hand to pull Stella up from the ground as well.

"I supposed we'd better start packing," Frank suggested, sounding much like his usual self. "When are we flying out again?"

"First thing tomorrow morning," Stella answered with a groan, dreading the upcoming flight. Then she realised that she'd be flying with Frank again, and relaxed slightly. Frank always seemed to make things better, even when he was upset.

Unbeknownst to Stella, Frank was thinking the same thing. Stella hated flights and being away from home, but he could always rely on her for support and comfort. Maybe she was his guardian angel in disguise, he mused.

They packed in silence, each of them incredibly grateful for the other's company, neither willing to admit it.


	8. After the Germinator

Frank woke up first, nursing a splitting headache as he looked around, trying to make sense of what was going on. He clambered to his feet and quickly helped Aneisha up from the floor. Once she had found her feet, he turned to Dan and Zoe, quickly realising that Dan had already pulled Zoe onto her feet. The four of them looked around at each other, each equally confused and still feeling the painful aftereffects of the last virus.

Tom's voice came through the comms, and they all listened to his report with a growing sense of relief as well as mounting respect for Tom's abilities in the field. Once the situation had been cleared and Tom on his way back, Aneisha found a stack of painkillers to distribute and shared them with Zoe and Dan. Frank, however, was too busy dialing a number into his phone.

He tried several times, but heard only the ringing tone, followed by Stella's voicemail. Growing increasingly frustrated and more than slightly worried, he was about to give up when his phone rang and he immediately answered.

"Frank." It was Stark's voice. Frank was not pleased. Nevertheless, Stark's tone seemed to be neutral but urgent, and not snide and sneering as usual. "It's Stella. MI9 hospital, level 2. You'd better get over here."

"On my way," Frank said as he darted into the lift, mouthing "I'll call you later" to his confused agents. "Okay, talk to me. What's going on?"

* * *

Frank reached the hospital in record time, courtesy of a few shortcuts and some selective blindness to traffic rules, not to mention irresponsibly driving with a terrible migraine.

Frank cursed himself for not suspecting this sooner. Stella had had a cold for the past few days, though the concept of a "day off" seemed strangely foreign to her and she had worked as hard as usual, ignoring her body's protests. This meant that her immune system would be too busy dealing with the cold virus to be suddenly adapting to fight the super-germ that had crossed the country. Stark had said her condition was stable but rapidly deteriorating. This was not good.

Running up the stairs two at a time, Frank waved his ID card around and demanded to see Stella.

"I'm sorry, sir," a medical intern said. "She's in isolation. Everyone's still only just coping with the new virus. It could make you sick as well."

"Get me an immunologist!" Frank demanded, though not unkindly. His mind was spinning ten times the normal rate, trying to work out a way to help Stella's immune system fight the virus.

One of the leading researchers turned up, and Frank started giving orders, not knowing whether he had the authority. "I studied immunology and I know how this works. My blood is the same type as Stella's: O-positive. We've done blood transfusions before so we know it works. Now my body has produced antibodies specific to this superbug, so if we talk some of my blood and give it to Stella, the antibodies should work against the supervirus. She won't have acquired immunity but at least it buys her time!"

"Slow down, sir," the scientist was saying. "Your science is good but you are forgetting that your own body is still fighting the virus. I cannot allow such a transfusion to take place. The risk is too high."

"I'd risk anything for Stella," Frank answered resolutely. "All responsibility on my part."

The scientists was hesitant, and Frank launched into a ten-minute logical justification for his case. Apparently the scientist realised that Frank would keep talking until he agreed, so he called up some medical personnel to conduct the transfusion.

"You understand that you will be admitted into the hospital as a patient?" One of the doctors was going through the "terms and conditions" of Frank's unusual demand. "We must keep you under full surveillance. You will likely deteriorate in health until your immune system can cope. We will provide saline solution to maintain your blood volume."

Frank nodded impatiently, allowing his blood to be taken. Still weak from the superbug, he changed into the hospital gown as directed and, once the doctor assured him that Stella had been given the antibodies, gratefully lay down on the bed and drifted into sleep.


	9. After the Germinator (II)

Frank recovered quickly, and was back to full health within the next day. However, the MI9 research unit wanted to keep him in for observation. For once, Frank obliged. He spent the next few days sitting by Stella's bed, leading the MI High team via his phone and giving them regular updates on how Stella was doing.

To everyone's immense relief, Stella's soaring temperature had dropped down to nearly normal shortly after the transfusion. She remained in a semi-conscious state for three days, but on the fourth day, around noon, she awoke.

It was a stroke of misfortune that Frank, who was at Stella's bedside nearly 24 hours a day, happened to be taking a toilet break at the time.

Stella opened her eyes painfully, her eyelids feeling as if they had weights attached to them. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings, her brain feeling frustratingly slow to respond. As a result, her heart monitor began to beep furiously to keep in time with her racing heart.

Luckily, Frank reentered the room, and, recognising him, Stella immediately relaxed. She tried to demand an explanation, but her throat was dry and she found it difficult to speak.

Frank grabbed a jug of water from the bedside table, helping Stella to sit up before offering her a glass. While she was drinking, he pressed the button on the wall to call in the doctor.

Propped up on a heap of pillows, dressed in a hospital gown, her eyes tired and weak and her hair flowing down her back, Stella couldn't look more different from the strict and serious Chief Agent that ran MI9. Nevertheless, Frank noted, she looked as beautiful as ever.

"How're you feeling?" Frank asked as Stella handed the glass back to him.

"Confused," Stella answered. "What's going on?"

Frank couldn't help but laugh. He had missed Stella's complete disregard for priorities. "I was asking how you felt, not how much you know about the current situation. But it's a long story. We've all been so worried! You've been unconscious for days!"

Stella nodded. To be completely honest, she felt like she'd been run over by a truck, but she'd never admit that to Frank. Shaking her head slightly to clear her vision a little, she noticed Frank's attire.

"Frank, why are you in a hospital gown?" Stella asked, immediately concerned.

The doctor chose this moment to enter the room, so Frank disappeared into the corridor to inform the team that Stella had woken up while the doctor examined her.

When the doctor had left, Frank went back into the room to find a mixture of indignation and annoyance etched across Stella's face.

"He said no active duty for two weeks!" Stella complained. Frank nodded. That explained the indignation. As for annoyance...

"He also told me what you did! You could have died! What on earth were you thinking?"

Frank held her gaze, his expression solemn. "Listen you yourself, Stella. _You _were closer to dying than I was. If I was in your position, would you be able to do nothing and let me fight it out myself?"

Stella dropped her gaze, admitting defeat. "No, I wouldn't," she said quietly.

Frank's expression softened, and he sat down beside her on the bed. "The team are coming up to visit. They've been really worried. I've had to give them hourly updates to keep them in school, because between them they could easily break into this place."

Stella nodded, taking this in. She certainly cared about the agents, but didn't realise that they cared about her too.

"Well, I'd better leave you to rest," Frank said, standing up.

A streak of disappointment darted through Stella's chest, but she nodded.

"And Frank?" Stella called just as Frank was leaving. He stopped and turned around.

"You risk your life to save mine," Stella said quietly.

"We're spies, Stella," Frank answered. "It's what we do. You've done it for me in the past and will do so again. I do the same. All part of the job."

"All the same," Stella said, her eyes looking directly at Frank's. "Thank you."

Frank smiled. "Don't mention it."

As Frank turned and left the room, Stella yawned and felt the throbbing pain in her head grow stronger. Despite her disappointment in losing Frank's company, she had to admit that he was right. She needed to rest.

Lying back down on the soft bed, Stella closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. The last thing she saw, in her mind's eye, was Frank.


	10. Before One Flew Over the Budgie's Cage

Stark was pleased. With Frank gone, the MI High project would surely be shut down. He'd have loved to head into Stella's office with some excuse or another and spend a good ten minutes gloating, but Stella was in a terrible mood and even Stark didn't dare to approach her at such a time.

Instead, Stark sat at his desk, browsing through communications. He quickly found Stella's order to have Frank stood down and sent to the Cranium Institute. This didn't surprise him. Stella, as much as she hated it, always followed protocol. The greater good, she always said, outweighs the individual concern, and definitely outweighs her own personal feelings. No, Stark was looking for the order that that kids' program would be shut down.

His mouse paused over a possible communication and he opened the file. Stella Knight would be temporarily taking over Frank London's position.

Stark was, to say the least, surprised. More accurately, his jaw dropped so dramatically that his mouth was wide open, and, to his great displeasure, a lone fly happened to fly right into his jaw. Spitting out the insect and cursing the bitter taste it left in his mouth, Stark slowly processed this new information. Stella was incredibly busy. How could she waste her time dealing with children?

In different circumstances, Stark might have visited Stella's office to try and talk some sense into her. But he'd heard rumours that Stella was assigning the most tedious paperwork to those who questioned her decisions, or worse, asked if she was alright, and Stark certainly didn't want any more paperwork. So he simply continued working at his office, staying well out of Stella's way.

* * *

There was a reason Stella was reassigning her paperwork, and it wasn't just because she was in a foul mood, nor that she would be taking on the extra responsibility of overseeing MI High. It was simply because she couldn't handle the paperwork herself.

She'd been burdened by a yoke of guilt ever since the report came in about Frank's recurring nightmares. She thought he'd grown out of them, but she should have known better. The raid on KORPS ten years ago had been terrible for Frank, and the aftermath had been worse. Worst of all, she hadn't been there for him. She'd needed space and time to grieve, and, for some reason, needed someone to blame. Frank had given her what she needed. She hadn't returned the favour.

As a result, Stella had filed the command for Frank to be stood down, volunteered to take over MI High, and collapsed at her desk. For the first time as far back as she could remember, she'd allowed herself the luxury of crying, her salty tears reminding her of what Frank would be feeling now. Her door was locked to ensure that no one walked in and asked if she was alright, and as she cried herself to sleep, she wished desperately that there was something more she could do. But there wasn't, and Frank wouldn't be wanting her comfort anyway.

Of course, as was often the case when Stella placed judgement on herself, she was wrong.

* * *

Frank lay in bed, exhausted but unable to sleep. This was partly because he was afraid of reliving the KORPS assault, partly because he was dreading the meeting with Stella the next morning. She would stand him down. She had to. It was all for the greater good. But then, what would happen to the team at St Heart's?

He rolled over under the blankets, shivering slightly from the cold. A side effect of this nightmares returning was that he could remember the past more clearly than ever, the good times as well as the bad.

More precisely, he remembered the stolen hours he had spent with Stella, a moment plucked from those high risk missions, or the precious evenings off at a restaurant, or a lakeside picnic. Frank tried to focus on those times instead of the KORPS assault. As a result, he found himself wishing more than ever that Stella was by his side, that he could drink in the sweet joy of her presence and bask in her starlight.

On his bedside table, his phone buzzed. Frank glanced at the clock as he picked it up, wondering who would be awake at three in the morning. It was text message, and Frank tapped the screen to read it.

_Frank,_

_Get some sleep before tomorrow. And Frank - I'm sorry. For everything._

_- Stella._

Frank read over the message a few times, confused. What did Stella have to apologise for? Unless she was thinking ten years' back?

Regardless, orders were orders, so Frank placed his phone back on his bedside table, closed his eyes, and willed for sleep to engulf him in its warm, inviting depth.


	11. After One Flew Over the Budgie's Cage

The flashing words on the screen signaled the salvation of the country. Once the initial feeling of immense relief had worn off, Stella suddenly remembered what had happened to Frank. As tears sprang to her eyes, she left Tom on comms to retreat into one of the side rooms of HQ. Finding an isolated corner, she sat on the ground, pulled her knees to her chest, and tried to take deep breaths as violent sobs began to shake her frame.

Tom was worried. As far as he knew, Frank had been lost, completely and forever. There was no reversing the process, no matter how hard he tried to think of a way. Frank would be alive and still just as funny and caring and brave, but he would never be the same. For Stella, it was as if Frank had died. She had been on the brink of tears when she gave Aneisha the order to get Frank back in the straps, and now, Tom had no doubt that she was finding space to cry and grieve.

He wanted to find Stella and comfort her, but he had to be waiting on comms in case Dan, Aneisha or Zoe reported in. And even if he were free to find Stella, what would he do and say? Aneisha and Zoe were great with emotions and people, but Tom only saw eye-to-eye with technology.

Tom was thrown from his thoughts by Aneisha's voice over the comms. "Got your message saying the country's safe, Tom. We're on our way home."

"See you soon, Neish!" Tom answered, somewhat sadly as he realised that Frank wouldn't be returning with them.

"Oh no, Tom, I'm so sorry, we forget to tell you!" Aneisha said. Tom's heart Leapt to his mouth. Aneisha sounded happy. Maybe this was good. "Frank's fine! His medal fried the circuits of the happy chair. He's not with us now but he's coming home in his own cab. Is Stella there?"

"Neish, that's great, I'm telling Stella now," Tom replied, and he felt as light as air, as if a huge burden had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

"Stella! Stella, Frank's fine!" Tom called.

There was no response, and Tom suddenly realised what Frank would have done already. "Stella, check your phone!"

* * *

In the side room, Stella heard Tom call our her name, and she shuddered, covering her mouth with one hand and using the other to hurriedly wipe away her tears. Then she heard him say that Frank was fine and she struggled to suppress the leap of joy in her heart. Tom hadn't explained exactly what he meant, and Stella was too used to disappointment to allow her hopes to rise.

Tom called out again for her to check her phone, and Stella obeyed. She found three missed calls and text message situation report from Frank.

_Stella - My medal of bravery messed up the circuits in the happy chair. I remember everything and I'm coming home. I'm sorry I scared you. Hope you're alright. - Frank_

As usual, Frank had completed violated basic protocol by including personal remarks in his report. Nevertheless, Stella was exceptionally relieved that Frank had come out of the whole dilemma essentially unscathed. As for his nightmares, she would do her best to get him some relief, because obviously she couldn't rely on the Cranium Institute for that.

* * *

Frank arrived back at the base long after Dan, Zoe and Aneisha had been and gone, taking Tom with them. The only person left was Stella, waiting patiently for his return.

Like a war veteran, Frank strode out of the lift doors and stopped a few paces from Stella.

"I'm back," he said simple. "Are you okay?"

Stella briefly wondered why Frank was asking _her_ if she was alright when he was the one who had nearly had his memories wiped, but then she remembered that this was Frank, and Frank never really bothered thinking about himself. Instead, she swallowed resolutely and blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Frank noticed her blinking at abnormal speeds, and took two steps forward to wrap his arms around her. He held her so tightly that he nearly lifted her from the ground. Stella relaxed in his embrace and took several deep breaths to regain control of her emotions.

When they stepped apart, they looked into each other's eyes and smiled.


	12. Before Prison Break

Frank woke up with a start, Stella's screaming voice still ringing in his ears. He could feel beads of sweat on his forehead as he reached for the light switch with one hand and his notebook and pen with the other.

Stella had thrust the notebook into his hands and demanded that he write down every one of his nightmares, under the threat of standing him down again if he didn't. Frank, who feared Stella's ruthless creativity above all else, obeyed.

The pen scratched messy letters across the papers, and Frank's hand shook as he was writing. Nevertheless, he had to admit that Stella's instructions did help, and the nightmares were occurring less and less often. Unfortunately, Frank had to show this notebook to Stella every second day, and he could see the pain in her eyes as again and again she relived that terrible day through reading Frank's abhorrent handwriting. Worse, he could see the sympathy in her eyes as well, wishing that she could cure Frank of these nightmares once and for all.

The very idea that Frank was causing pain to Stella would tempt him to leave out entries in the notebook, to pretend that he had had a proper night's sleep. But Stella, being Stella, always asked if he had written everything down, and always knew when he was lying. Knowing that such a betrayal would hurt Stella more than anything, Frank stuck to the plan and wrote vivid accounts of every nightmare.

His entry complete, Frank put down the pen and paper and turned off the light. Writing down the nightmare was like wishing it away, and Frank slept soundly for the rest of the night.

* * *

Stella usually read the notebook as soon as Frank handed it to her, but today she set it aside and took a deep breath, as if to share bad news. Frank had known this moment was coming, as Stella had been distracted for many days, but whenever Frank asked what was wrong, she always assured him that she was fine and told him to go back to work. Now, perhaps, he would finally find out what was bothering her, and, with any luck, put an end to it.

"You remember Hyperia?" Stella asked.

"Of course," Frank answered, a little shocked. "She gave her life. So courageous. She was amazing."

They shared a short moment of silence in remembrance of a lost comrade.

"Do you remember her brother Alexis?" Stella's voice seemed fragile, like an autumn leaf fluttering in the wind, about to break off from the branch.

"How could I not?" Frank almost laughed. "He gave me that talk when we first started dating. He threatened to have me hung, drawn and quartered if I hurt you. Come to think of it, he should have."

It was the first time that they had brought up the subject of dating since they had started working together again. Remembering Alexis' warning suddenly made him feel immensely guilty. He had promised to always look after and protect Stella, and he had broken that promise.

Stella's next words plucked Frank out from his thoughts. "Well, he wants to now, but not for that reason. He blames you for - "

"Hyperia's death," Frank finished bitterly, very much agreeing with Alexis. Stella caught on to his tone.

"No, Frank, it wasn't your fault," Stella said earnestly, knowing full well that she had, unjustly, blamed Frank as well. "But Alexis blames you, and we now need to break him out of prison."

Frank nodded, slightly relieved that Stella had apparently forgiven him and knowing full well that MI9 had been planning to break the Shadow Master out for some time.

"Your team has been given the task," Stella said. "But you will not be involved."

"What?" Frank stood up and started waving his hands about as he spoke. "It's extremely dangerous, MI9 is bound to disown them if anything happens, and you won't even let me help!"

"Frank, calm down," Stella said firmly. "Your involvement will makes things worse. If von Hades wants to kill you, then he will knock your team straight out of the way."

Frank sat down, slumping his shoulders. Stella was right, as usual. It was one of her most annoying traits.

"And another thing," Stella added. "We can't tell the team why your not involved."

Frank nodded. He disagreed, but could tell he wasn't going to win an argument.

The matter out of the way and sorted, Stella reached for Frank's notebook and was pleased to fine that his nightmares were growing more infrequent. Nevertheless, she immersed herself in his writing, needing to experience what Frank experienced every night. She wanted so badly to understand and to think of some way to help.

Frank simply sat in his seat, watching grief, empathy and sadness flash so fleetingly across Stella's face. He hated that she was hurting, yet somehow, knew that she was healing. Maybe they both were, together.


	13. Before Inheritance

Stella was furious. That arrogant idiot of an heir had pushed her patience to testing point, and it was only sheer determination and fear of bringing shame upon all of Britain that had gotten her through the negotiations. Worst of all, she would be meeting Grand Duke Nicholas again, because the end results of the negotiations was that he would indeed be visiting Britain. MI9 would be in charge of his safety, which basically meant that Stella would be burdened with the responsibility of making sure that Nicholas wouldn't do anything stupid.

Luckily, she had Frank's team of teenagers to help out with this particularly irritable young man of their own age. The minute she got disentangled herself for the diplomatic discussion, she found a rather empty corridor and dialed Frank's number.

"Stella!" There was a lot of background noise through the phone, and Stella could tell that it was lunchtime at the school. "What's up? How'd the meeting with the PM and ambassador go?"

The background noise quickly died off, and Stella guessed that Frank had moved to quieter location. "As well as I could have hoped," Stella answered, her voice clipped as she struggled to retain the twinge of annoyance that she felt every time she even thought of Gran Duke Nicholas. "MI9 has been given the task of protecting the Grand Duke. I need your team on it."

"I'll call them in for briefing then," Frank answered, and Stella could hear him fumbling with his mop handle to summon his agents. "Are you coming over for the briefing?"

"Yes, I might as while," Stella answered. "I can explain it to you at the same time, no need to do it over the phone."

There was a pause, and somehow, Stella knew Frank was frowning. "Stella," Frank said cautiously. "You sound annoyed. What did I do this time?"

"What?" Nothing!" Stella had disguised her annoyed tone as part of her businesslike manner, but apparently Frank had seen, or rather _heard_, through the act.

"Then what did Stark do?" Frank asked, sounding slightly relieved that he wasn't in trouble.

"Nothing either!" Stella replied. She sighed softly, but Frank still heard her through the phone.

"Then what's wrong?"

Stella paused, uncertain of whether she should warn him about Grand Duke Nicholas' tendency to irritate everyone around him. Then she decided that Frank should at least have some mental preparation for meeting the young heir. "It's the Grand Duke. He's so irritable you would not believe it. I can generally be quite patient in a diplomatic setting, but I nearly lost it and yelled at him to learn some manners. You'll find out when you meet him."

There was a pause as Frank digested this information. "I'm sure I will. In the meantime, come round and spend some time with us wonderfully normal people here at St Heart's."

Stella laughed. Frank and the school-aged spies were anything from normal. "I look forward to it. See you in a bit."

"See you," Frank answered, before they both hung up.

After a morning full of polite phrases squeezed out through gritted teeth, Stella found it extremely relaxing to be able to smile again. Her smile, which found its way onto her face while she was talking to Frank, grew wider as she realised that she'd be seeing him very soon.

Pocketing her phone, Stella walked out of the building to the waiting car and climbed in, telling the driver to take her to St Heart's. It was time to brief the team.


	14. After the Final Endgame

It had been two weeks. Frank was still constantly replaying the events in the reactor core again and again in his head. Stella loved him. She had kissed him! And now she was avoiding him. What had he done wrong?

Of course, it may have been the fact that he nearly died. That was a pretty bad misadventure. All the same, Stella could hardly blame him. It was all for the greater good and besides, Stella herself had pretty much sacrificed her own life simply so that he would not die alone.

Frank was once again musing on the complexity of Stella's mind whilst cleaning out Flopsy's cage. Deep in his thought, he didn't notice that Aneisha had entered the base until her voice caught his attention.

"You just need to be patient, Frank," Aneisha said. Frank looked up, startled at her appearance. "Give Stella time, and eventually she'll come round. She's probably feeling guilty that you nearly died."

Frank frowned. Aneisha's words made sense, but he failed yet again to understand how Stella's logic. That woman seemed to find a way to make everything her fault.

"Aneisha, can you do me a favour?" Frank asked, dropping Flopsy back in his cage so that he could resume his nap. "Next time you see Stella, tell her it's not her fault. She won't talk to me, but you can tell her that."

"One step ahead of you, Frank," Aneisha answered with a smile. "I got Tom to do that already.

* * *

Tom knocked on Stella's door, and entered on command. Slightly nervous, he seated himself across the desk from Stella, hoping that she wouldn't yell at him when she found out this was just a social visit.

"What is it, Tom?" Stella asked, half-expecting the world to be in danger. Then again, if the world was in danger, Frank would have called, and if Frank hadn't been able to call for whatever (she swallowed a lump in her throat), Tom would've hacked into the system to get the urgent news to her. No, this was something that did not involve nuclear disaster or biological weaponry.

"Aneisha sent me," Tom began, hesitating slightly. Stella nodded encouragingly, and he went on, "Aneisha wanted me to tell you that Frank's been really confused by your behaviour but it's okay to take your time to think things through and also the kappa radiation thing with Frank and you both in the core without suits was not in the least part your fault and that you should stop blaming yourself for everything and talk to us and Frank because we really care about you."

Tom said this all in one breath, panting slightly at the end of his recitation. Nevertheless, Stella, accustomed to decoding convoluted messages from agents in training, understood everything.

"Thank you, Tom," Stella said her tone soft and sincere. She blinked rapidly as she continued, "Thank Aneisha for me as well. If that's all..."

"It is," Tom confirmed, standing up. "See you later."

"Goodbye, Tom," Stella answered.

Tom left the room and Stella leaned forward onto her desk, resting her head on her folded arms. She saw the photograph of Frank and the team through blurred vision as she let the tears roll silently down her cheeks, a whirlpool of confusion and desire circling in her mind.


End file.
